Page 89 of Sweetling
“What have you dreamed?” she breathed, hips already beginning to rock needily.
His purple eyes cut to her, bright and dancing like an aurora. He said nothing but kept her gaze as he swooped down to fill his mouth with her. Molly gasped and arched as the hot burn of his tongue seared her. He caught the nipple between teeth and tongue, rolling it over a fang for a burst of pleasure-pain that throbbed deep in her cunt.
Molly writhed on the bed, reduced to only sensation as his expert hand plucked and plumped her breast and his lips played the other like an instrument. She dug her nails into his flanks, not sure if she meant to push him away or pull him closer.
He released her captive breast with a wetpopbefore turning his attention to the other. Molly could hardly track all the feelings and sensations, but it wasn’t her imagination when something teased at her well-loved breast other than his hand.
His magic.
As his hand trailed down her middle, his magic pooled on her skin, bubbling like champagne. It teased the underside and circled her nipple, leaving a swathe of sparking sensations in its wake. It was almost too much to bear, especially when—
Those long fingers found their way down her lower belly, past her mons, to delve into her warm heat. Molly parted her trembling thighs, greedy for his touch there.
Another groan buzzed on her skin. “You burn for me,” he growled, the pleasure vicious in his voice.
“Don’t stop,” she demanded, hips rolling as his fingers explored.
“Never.” His mouth latched over her breast again, teeth biting down just enough to shred her sanity. Between his mouth and his magic, Molly could hardly breathe, but then those fingers found her clitoris and everything else ceased.
Molly came apart under his care, all of him working to push her up the peak and over. She fell from that precipice into a pleasure so consuming, she forgot who and where she was. She was but a string pulled taut, strummed masterfully to create the perfect note.
She cried out and mewled and made other sounds she’d never made before, hips snapping, chasing every touch and stroke of his fingers. When she fell back onto the bed, forehead damp and chest heaving, though, he didn’t relent.
He buried his face between her breasts, his magic pushing them against his cheeks. “Again,” he said, although Molly wasn’t coherent enough to understand.
But she did when those fingers stroked deeper into her gushing heat, finding her aching cunt and spreading her wide. Her breath stuttered in her lungs—what did he—
Another tendril of magic curled over her lower belly, snaking down over her spread folds and between his fingers. Molly choked on a gasp as the magic swirled around her entrance before pushing inside.
Allarion shuddered above her. His arm pushed beneath her and wrapped around to capture a breast, freeing his mouth to press kisses up her chest to her neck, where he set his fangs at her throat.
Molly couldn’t pay attention to any one thing, her senses overwrought. She filled her fist with his silky hair and scratched her nails at his scalp. With her other hand, she hooked behind her knee to open herself wider to the magic. Her mouth fell open in wonder at the feeling of being filled—her eyes saw nothing more than the air around them wavering like it did above hot pavement, yet shefeltthat phantom cock shuttling in and out, stretching her wide.
She pinched the pointed tip of his ear and hissed at his temple, “Harder—fuck meharder.”
A growl erupted from Allarion, and suddenly his two fingers joined his magic. He pushed inside, giving her no quarter. His fingers and magic kept opposite rhythms, always retreating and thrusting, thrusting and retreating. Her hips rocked frantically, the pressure pinching her belly until—
With a yelp, Molly came apart again.
When she regained consciousness, sounds came back to her first. Her own breathing sawing in and out of her desperate lungs. Allarion’s strange but enticing keening, the sound piercing as his fangs threatened to do at her throat.
Molly blinked up at the canopied ceiling.
Good gods, I could spend my life doing that.
Her focus narrowed when she felt the point of a fang pinch her skin. Molly’s heart, trying to catch up, lurched—is he going to bite me?
She held still, waiting to see what he’d do—and wondering why she wasn’t more repulsed by the idea. Molly liked a little pinching or spanking, but she wasn’t fond of true pain, with sex or without. She tensed as she waited, Allarion a stiff, coiled thing above her.
“Allarion?” she called his name softly.
One by one, his muscles unlocked. It took several moments, but when he raised his head to look at her, it was her fae staring back at her, not a beast threatening to bite. She thought she saw a glimmer of shame in his eyes, but he was quickly rearranging her in the bed and throwing the covers over them.
“The goddesses have blessed me with you,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.
Rolling onto her side to face him, Molly asked, “What about you?” Running her hand down his flank and hip, it took no effort to find the bulge straining the front of his trou. To say she was curious about him and what he had hidden under there was an understatement.
And while she was certainly still tired from the day and her two exquisite orgasms, Molly also wasn’t a quitter.
